#behind. the potential angst and hurt/comfort as Cat misses her own son and learns to love another. feeding him and keeping him warm from-

[dirtytransmasc]

self indulgent got concept.

Ned brings Jon home, Cat hates the boy, everything stays the same... until Robert Baratheon is charging through the halls of Winterfell looking for the babe, ready to butcher the poor thing where he lay helpless in his cradle.

in a matter of moments Catelyn learns three things:

The babe was never a bastard, Ned had only lied to her to protect Jon, and that she would die before she let Robert lay a finger on the babe she'd previously wished death upon.

cue Catelyn Stark snatching Jon from his cradle, holding him, protecting him, loving him as she would her own son, risking it all to keep him safe, all care for herself thrown to the wind.

like they say, what a mother's love holds no bounds, and what it makes her capable of had no limits.

[mythicamagic]

Impostor Syndrome: Sesskag oneshot

Summery: Kagome is resurrected by a grief stricken husband- brought back to fill his late wife Kikyo’s shoes. While the characteristics unique to Kagome are rejected by Inuyasha, there’s a certain Daiyoukai who has a fascination with her blue eyes, sun kissed skin and curling hair.

Rated T (angst, relationship drama, romance and hurt/comfort) 7,000+ words.

AN: Inuyasha plays a more antagonistic role here but in case you’ve never read my stuff before, just know that I do like him and love me some good platonic best friends Inukag, as seen in Conversing with Emotion and Swimming in Silk. It’s just that I like to play around with the characters, so forgive me for how he’s written in this one.

No smut here but please enjoy.

Impostor Syndrome

There once was a young man who married for love. Born a half-demon, he never anticipated anyone loving him, let alone a priestess; enemy to his father’s kin.

But just as he did not fit in with demon or humankind, she did not belong within the role assigned to her either. An extraordinary woman wishing to be ordinary. To be free from the weight of expectation placed upon her shoulders.

And so they’d fled.

After marrying for love the young man experienced pure, quiet happiness with his wife. She had a calming spirit that could turn hard as flint, blinding in her cold ruthlessness. She could slay enemies efficiently and with poised control yet turn soft and loving for him alone.

They lived for a time together in the forest, keeping to their personal haven.

Because of her skill, the young man trusted her power not to fail on the night of the new moon.

He howled his grief and despair long into the early hours of morning after discovering her broken body lying in the grass of a clearing.

But that was not quite the end of the man who married for love. Instead, he attempted to play God.

—-

She took her first breath and broke into a coughing fit. Rising up from the cold floor, a young woman shivered. Glancing down, she found herself covered in sticky sweat, completely bare.

“Kikyo,” someone breathed, barely above a whisper.

The young woman started. Her hand was caught between two larger ones that clasped her fingers tight, squeezing. Blue eyes raised to the stranger with muted confusion.

He blinked with equal confusion and mounting anger, sniffing. “You don't… smell like her,” the words came faintly. “Why doesn’t she smell like her!” He burst, causing the woman to jolt.

“Master Inuyasha, the spell you desired is a finicky one.” A slippery, hoarse voice came from behind them, dripping fake pleasantries. “Be patient. Your wife may not look or smell quite the same but her memories will return from the dead.”

Inuyasha glared over his shoulder at the witch who lingered in the entrance to his hut like an unwanted spectre. “She better. This ain’t what I agreed to,” he stood, fists trembling.

The girl at his feet stared with furrowed brows, uncertain why disappointment brimmed in the stranger’s eyes. Nonetheless, he seemed to try and correct his attitude, reaching down to grasp thin arms. Roughly tugging her to stand, he supported her around the waist when she wobbled. “I guess we’ll just take this slow,” he sighed. “I’m your husband, Inuyasha. And your name is Kikyo.”

She blinked and tried to steady herself on trembling legs, frowning.

The very first words out of her mouth were;

“I’m not Kikyo.”

—-

Perhaps those words didn’t help endear her to Inuyasha. Nonetheless, he resolved to start from scratch.

‘Kikyo’ was given his late wife’s clothes to wear, smoothing the priestess robes over her body. However, with every opportunity, the woman slipped out of the robes in order to wear a yukata or kimono instead. Anything but the miko attire. It set his teeth on edge. At least she held the holy power of a priestess like his wife.

She understood his language and already knew the basics of reading and writing. Inuyasha took this to be a good sign since his late wife had been educated.

When it came to other things, the woman tried her best to learn the necessary herbs for healing as instructed. Yet her attention often wandered away, lost in a daydream.

“Oi,” he grunted. “Focus. Kikyo was dedicated to this stuff.”

“But we already have enough herbs from yesterday,” sighing, she straightened and rested the basket of herbs against her hip. “Can’t we do something else?” Blue eyes lingered on the treetops. “Is there a beach near here? I’d really like to see the ocean.”

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “Where’d you hear about beaches? I never took Kikyo to one.”

She continued to gaze longingly at the trees, as though looking through them to somewhere else, somewhere far away. Inuyasha grit his teeth, bristling. Grasping the woman’s chin and turning it slightly to better inspect the structure of her face, he tsked. “Damn it… wish your eyes were brown like they used to be,” he grumbled. “Hurry up and remember everything already. You’re not acting right.”

Blue eyes slid away, lips thinning. “I’m just acting like myself…”

“Keh, you ain’t anyone else but Kikyo,” dropping her chin, he straightened. “Things are weird right now but they’ll go back to normal as soon as you remember, I promise.”

The young woman buried her feelings anew. She’d been doing that a lot lately. When he walked away and called for Kikyo, it took her a moment to remember that she’d been assigned such a name. It didn’t sit right on her tongue.

—

Inuyasha lived fairly isolated within the woods with his wife. However, there were those who knew where to find him. Namely: his half brother.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you used it?”

“I have used it.”

“Experimenting with the sword on Jaken and a little girl does not count,” Inukimi hummed with amusement, watching her son with dancing eyes.

Sesshoumaru’s narrowed, head tilting back and brushing long silver hair over his shoulder. “As this one has stated numerous times; a sword of healing is a useless prop for a warlord to wield.”

His honoured mother hummed, resting her pale cheek in her palm boredly. “I do wish your Father were still with us to temper that disrespectful tongue of yours. Consider my words, pup. That sword should be used, and preferably to save a life that is precious to you. Don’t squander it, dearest. I thought you hated wasted potential.”

With a snort, Sesshoumaru took his leave. Disappointment radiated off Inukimi but he hardly cared. Whatever ‘lesson’ Father had intended for him to learn about Tenseiga was ultimately useless for a demon like him.

Returning to his own stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to the reports from his advisers, before making his way down a hallway. Strange that his blood did not sing with the thrill of victory. Reports of his army’s success in battle were usually a favourable thing. Lately, however, there was no burning satisfaction. Perhaps he merely needed to visit the front lines again for himself. Jaken was most likely instructing Rin in her morning lessons at that time, so he made his way towards the gardens.

Whispers flitted into the air, irritating his ears. Sesshoumaru zeroed in on the hushed mutterings and paused mid-step. The Lord of the Western lands did not care much for idle gossip, yet a particularly prevalent one kept cropping up lately.

“Did ye hear? Master Inuyasha’s wife perished.”

“The priestess Kikyo?”

“Mn- and do not repeat this but I hear he revived her with the use of dark magic.”

“No!”

“Yes. Though I suppose he’d need to rely on such means. It is not as though Lord Sesshoumaru would lend him Tenseiga.”

At the mention of his name, a frosty gaze swung to the servants down the hallway. They squeaked and hurried away.

Though he loathed agreeing, the validity of their statement couldn’t be denied. He and his brother were not ‘close’ by any stretch of the imagination. Still, Sesshoumaru felt mildly curious about the whelp’s situation.

This curiosity resulted in the Daiyoukai gliding through the sky that afternoon. It took a few hours, but Sesshoumaru followed his memory towards Inuyasha’s humble hut. He did not land gracefully before the house, instead keeping to the surrounding bushes. Moving near silently under the heavy shade of the trees, pointed ears twitched.

Thwack.

Sesshoumaru scented the air and minded some low hanging branches aside, revealing the figure of a dark-haired young woman in the clearing ahead. She drew a bowstring back and arched her spine slightly, pulling taut. Taking in a breath, she released in time with the arrow sailing free.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened slightly, watching it fly through the air. Blazing, rippling light flowed around it like a fireball, crashing into the target and licking at the paper with burns before fading away.

“The hell was THAT?!”

Sesshoumaru dazedly forced his attention to Inuyasha, who stomped into view. “One: ya missed the bullseye! Two: your stance was wrong, and three: Kikyo had amazing control over her powers. She never woulda let them loose like that! Ya stupid or something? Do I gotta tell you the basics over and over?”

The miko sighed and dropped her arms, making a face. “Can’t you encourage me for once and say ‘good job?’ I try my best every time!”

“I’ll tell ya 'good job’ when you do one!”

Sesshoumaru raised a brow, watching as Inuyasha fell quiet. He reached up and contemplatively curled his fingers into the woman’s thick dark hair. The woman stilled, becoming watchful.

“It’s startin’ to kink at the ends again. Go wash it,” he grunted so softly Sesshoumaru’s hearing strained a little to catch it.

Blue eyes dimmed. The woman broke from Inuyasha’s touch to flee, hurrying away from their training grounds.

Sesshoumaru pursued.

Silently moving through the trees with all the grace of a jungle cat, limbs shifted and eyes assessed, gleaming bright in the shadows. Sesshoumaru leaned against a tree, remaining hidden by the foliage. The sound of muffled sobs reached his ears, almost buried under the noise of a waterfall. Salt fanned through the air. The woman knelt in a pool beside the falls, stripped down to a white underlayer yukata. She poured a bucket over her head, shuddering. Biting back sobs, she miserably combed shaking fingers through her hair, pausing to inspect the naturally curling dark locks.

“Just flatten. Why can’t you stay straight?” She sighed.

Sesshoumaru rose a brow as the young woman raised an arm, pushing back her sleeve to glare at her skin. “And don’t even get me started on you.”

When she did not elaborate, he found himself walking through the greenery, pushing past the bushes to inquire: “What exactly has your flesh done to offend you, madwoman?”

Starting violently, she fell back to land on her ass, creating a small splash. Blue eyes flew wide, flitting over his figure. Sesshoumaru let her drink him in. He often had that effect on people.

She gathered herself a little quicker than expected, rising. “I was just annoyed about being so tanned. My uh… husband,” the word was faint and sounded almost like a question. “He said his former wife was pale but she spent all her time outdoors. How’s that possible?!”

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, tilting his head slightly. “Hn. This one was led to believe Inuyasha had resurrected the priestess Kikyo. However, you seem more like a replacement than her double.”

Flinching, she began ringing her hair. Water droplets slid down rosy cheeks and fell from the dark, dishevelled strands of midnight black locks. The white yukata plastered to her body almost indecently.

Sesshoumaru lifted his eyes from where they’d been lingering and caught her gaze. Colour leaked into her cheeks, darkening them further as she huffed. “You know Inuyasha, then?”

“This one is his half brother, Sesshoumaru.”

“Oh,” her eyes clouded with thought. “I didn’t know he had a brother. I don’t get to talk to anyone else but he still doesn’t tell me much about himself.”

Sesshoumaru watched as the woman bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m-” she caught herself, lips thinning. A dark look crossed her features before the name was pushed past her teeth like mud. “Kikyo. I'm… Kikyo.”

“No, you are not.”

The woman jolted and stared, fingers curling into her sleeves tightly. “I don't… have another name,” came a fragile murmur.

“Then give yourself one,” he uttered flatly, uncertain why he lingered. He supposed it displeased him on some level. Sesshoumaru did not like unnecessary waste. What he’d witnessed earlier of her powers hinted at a deep well of untapped potential in the girl. She’d likely not unlock it if Inuyasha kept her mind on trivial details like 'straight hair.’ “This one gave himself the name Sesshoumaru, or Killing Perfection. When a demon comes of age, they may choose a new one for themselves,” he elaborated. “I have been bred for war. So that is the most fitting name.”

She blinked and rubbed at her eyes, before raising her head, lips curving. “The 'killing’ part, sure. But 'perfection?’” She teased.

“I am very good at it,” he said in a silky tone.

Bursting into a laugh, the strange woman gave the brightest smile the demon lord had yet to witness, blue eyes glimmering. “I see. Thank you for the advice. I’ll do that.”

He frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little odd. Hyper aware of his lack of reason to be there now, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and walked away. In his eagerness to leave, he quite forgot to check in with Inuyasha himself.

A few days went by before Sesshoumaru made the journey back to Inuyasha’s home once more. Peace reigned throughout the Lord’s lands so he allowed himself the 'entertainment’ of watching Inuyasha’s latest drama. It was most definitely not to glimpse the miko again, nor to monitor her progress.

She seemed to have improved her aim, yet the reiki remained unfiltered and untrained. What was Inuyasha doing?

Ah, it seemed he was in the middle of their latest shouting match.

Clearly yelling would not make the girl learn any faster. Golden eyes cut to the sky. Why did he have to get involved?

“Concentrate your energy into the arrow.”

“Huh?” The woman glanced over her shoulder, now left briefly unmonitored by the whelp. She shifted the bow and arrow in her hands, dressed in traditional red and white miko attire today. They made her look like a Kikyo doll. “I don’t…know how,” she confessed. “It always feels like there’s so much of it. Like I’m trying to hold onto water that’s pouring too quick. I can cup a little into my hands, but the rest overflows.”

Sesshoumaru hummed, gaze ripping itself away from the light catching in her hair, causing some strands to shine a strangely blue hue. “Practice yields results. Eventually you will manage to filter the 'water’ into the arrow and allow the excess to flow back into you.”

She nodded and faced the target, elbows drooped and feet too close together. Biting back a sigh, he approached.

A hand met her elbow, pushing to raise it. “Keep your arms in this position…” his deep baritone became clogged with a velvety rumble, finding her scent not unpleasant when it brushed over his senses. His palm met the base of her spine, prodding to arch her back. She felt warm to the touch.

He then slid a foot between her own, nudging her legs to part wider. A rapid heartbeat thundered in his ears. “This is the correct stance.”

“A-ah, thanks.”

With a palm pressing against her back, Sesshoumaru felt it when she inhaled a breath, coiling static energy into the wooden arrow and releasing it.

The arrow flew free, missing the bullseye. However, the holy powers raced over her bow in an agitated manner before settling back down instead of scotching the target.

Better, he mused.

She gave a much louder whoop of success.

From that day on, he visited the miko in secret once each week. It pleased the slumbering desire within him to witness the smile come to her lips the instant blue eyes fell upon him. Like she’d been waiting. Whenever they met and the demon’s knuckles grazed her waist- her arm, her hair- the woman scrubbed herself afterwards in a hot spring or pool, mindful of Inuyasha’s keen nose.

Sesshoumaru’s voice was crisp and clear, instruction brief and to the point in his teaching. She tried her best as his pupil, grumbling sometimes but not outright complaining. Instead, the nameless woman threw herself wholeheartedly into what was demanded of her.

Two months later, she finally hit the bullseye with perfect control. Not a hint of reiki over-spilled.

“I did it!” The woman glanced over her shoulder to look up at him, beaming from ear to ear.

Sesshoumaru stared. Her happy scent washed over him in waves. His lips parted to drink it in easier. Faintly, the sleeping want for her stirred and stretched awake like a disturbed cat.

It was while staring that the dip of her collar hinting at succulent flesh laying just beneath- that something caught his eye. Her clothing shifted downwards, revealing a glimpse of something unmistakable.

A love bite.

The situation suddenly dawned on him, the ridiculousness of what he was doing. He should not get involved with Inuyasha’s wench. Hell, he shouldn’t even be there. What was he doing? He had wars to plan, subjects to lead. And yet he’d been waiting each day for that favoured time he’d visit her anew. Mentally he took a step back.

“Sesshoumaru?”

He frowned at the familiarity with which she used his name. At his pensive silence, dark brows pulled together and she bit her lip maddeningly.

Foolish miko. This one’s teeth should be the ones to catch your lips and bite down-

“Oi, Kikyo!” Came a distant shout.

They both jolted, Sesshoumaru raising his head. He did not run nor hide, because Sesshoumaru did not flee from anyone.

From out of the forest greenery, Inuyasha burst forth, snarling. He raised a hand and flexed his fingers. “I thought I smelled ya. The hell are you doing here, Sesshoumaru? Back off. That’s my wife you’re hovering around.”

“Is that so?” He uttered, raising his chin in a lofty manner. “She is so changed in appearance and scent this one mistook her for a different human entirely.”

Out of his peripheral vision, the woman flinched. For some reason, this set his teeth on edge. She should not think it an insult. Inuyasha’s words were starting to infect her, seep into the woman’s self-image, rotting it like poison.

Not that this one cares.

Inuyasha snarled. “She’s gonna go back to normal soon, it ain’t any of your business!”

“No, it is not. In fact, it is far beneath my notice,” he uttered, claws flexing. And then because he could, Sesshoumaru blurred through the air and struck. His fist plummeted into Inuyasha’s cheek, sending the hanyou sailing away and crashing into the ground.

His half brother sputtered and snarled, sitting up and holding his cheek. “The fuck was that for?! You wanna fight?”

“I have little inclination to linger here any longer than necessary,” Sesshoumaru lied, turning on his heel and passing the miko. Sadness fanned out from her scent, irritating his senses. She didn’t look at him, which the Daiyoukai found displeasing and unacceptable. Nonetheless, he walked away.

—-

Dark, wild hair had been tamed back into a low ponytail the next time he saw the miko. It was unfortunate that she happened to also see him. Oddly, the usual method of concealing his youki hadn’t worked, and she’d zeroed in on his presence within the trees. Perhaps she had much-untapped potential.

“Sesshoumaru?”

Gracefully dropping from the branches elicited a gasp from the woman. “Y-you’re injured!”

Sesshoumaru glanced at his shoulder wound. Blood had leaked into the red crest patterning his clothes, dying it a deeper crimson. “Hn.”

“Don’t you 'hn’ me! What happened? Why aren’t you treating it?” She fussed, approaching to grip the clean material of his white silks and try to pry them away from the wound, squinting at the slash marks.

“In a few hours this one will be healed. There is little reason to fuss, woman,” he tried to bat her hand away but surprise froze his veins when she caught his striped wrist. Her hands felt soft and smaller than his own, but firm and sure.

“I’m going to fetch my supplies. You wait here or I’ll damn track you down myself, got that?” She threatened, blue eyes sparking in such a way that they made the male twitch and wish for a different kind of touch from the miko. Sesshoumaru bit the inside of his cheek, watching her hurry away.

When she returned, Sesshoumaru had reclined against a tree, arm draped gracefully over one bent leg. The woman dropped to her knees before him and reached for his collar, gaze flicking to his wordlessly for permission.

He granted it by glancing away mutely, throat tight. For some reason, saliva pooled in his mouth the moment she began undressing him. It was foul to be affected so. She only aimed to aid him. Still, Sesshoumaru sat rigidly still while her gentle scent flitted and teased his senses.

“I think I’ve found a name for myself,” she hummed while cleaning his wound.

“Hn?”

“It’s Kagome.”

“That is acceptable.”

She giggled, “I’m glad you like it.”

“I did not say that.”

Kagome bandaged the flesh, despite him informing her that it was not necessary. He also did not stop her. Every faint brush of her fingertips became distracting, silently invited.

“It’s a really nice day,” she hummed, wiping her brow. The humidity made her bangs puff up. He hated that he found it endearing. “Perfect beach weather day. Does Rin enjoy going there? I’d love to meet her and take her paddling,” she babbled and cooed.

“I have not taken her. Why do you wish to go to the beach so badly? You mention it often.”

“Huh? I don’t think I’ve talked about it to you before?”

Sesshoumaru fell into moody silence, inwardly kicking himself. Thankfully she carried on, thinking she had a faulty memory rather than accusing him of eavesdropping. “I don’t know why exactly. I just keep feeling like it’s where I’ll find something important. Like I can see this image in my mind of the sun setting beyond the waves. It’s peaceful, but also kind of scary at the same time. Maybe it’s the last thing I saw before I died? Who knows.”

He glanced down, feeling hot breath fan over his exposed chest. “Hn…I suppose you were brought back from the same place Inuyasha intended to pull Kikyo from.”

“Mhm, though I don’t remember anything else about my previous life.” Kagome shrugged, fixing the silks back over his bandaged shoulder and smoothing the hankimono back into place over his chest. She fixed his collar with gentle hands, fussing like a wife.

A wife…

Sesshoumaru frowned slightly, startled to find her attention on his mouth. His heart started to pick up, blood heating when those intoxicating blue eyes flitted up to drink him in.

She abruptly broke the spell between them by getting to her feet and picking up the forgotten bandages and alcohol she’d used for disinfectant. Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out to lock on her wrist.

Kagome stilled, lips thinning. “Please let go, Sesshoumaru.”

“Do you intend to return to that whelp in such a hurry?”

“At least I’m not 'beneath his notice’.”

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider. So, his words had truly been the ones to cause her sadness. They’d bothered her. His grip tightened slightly, causing her to flinch.

“You’re hurting me, let go.”

“A human like you should be beneath my notice,” he uttered, shifting to stand before her. Sesshoumaru took a step closer, leaning down. Pale strands fell loose from behind a pointed ear, rushing down to hide their faces from view behind a curtain of silver. “You are Inuyasha’s wench, a miko, a mortal. Many unsuitable things wrapped into one. And yet I linger…I wonder why.”

“So do I, since you clearly don’t want to be here,” she hissed lowly, cheeks blooming red.

Slit pupils grew a tad larger, dilating. Sesshoumaru inched closer, on the cusp of grasping something as their lips were but a hair’s breadth away- before she snapped her hand out, slapping him across the face.

Kagome ripped herself free, panting slightly and raising a hand to her lips. “I’m only good at archery now because you taught me, and I only wanted to be good at it because Inuyasha told me to be better. I have a name now because you told me to get one. I keep…doing things just because other people want them for me! You could’ve asked me to kiss you just then and I would’ve-” tears pricked her eyes. “Just like Inuyasha has asked me to kiss him and…”

She hugged her arms tightly to her body, shuddering and bowing in on herself, folding like crumpled paper. “I don’t know who I am. What I want. I-I don’t know if things would be any different with you, Sesshoumaru. So please, just leave me alone. You’re making me question things. I obviously do strange things to you too so let’s just drop whatever this is.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you are content with being his doll, then?”

“At least being a doll doesn’t hurt! He doesn’t see me, so it doesn’t feel as personal as getting rejected by someone whose opinion I care about!” Kagome snapped, light voice darkening into something raw and real. Sesshoumaru’s cheek stung despite her hand having left no mark, his skin too tough for such things.

Blue eyes filled with tears as she turned and fled, salt catching in the breeze.

—

Sesshoumaru marched with his troops. Remaining on the front lines of their latest battle, he raised his claws and bid the song of war to flood his veins.

The sensation did not come.

Bereft, Sesshoumaru found himself immensely sober with each life he took. The slash of his claws unhinging a jaw- his sword swinging to cleave a horse in two. All felt like a mechanism. Easy, flavourless.

After the enemy soldiers lay dead and he returned to his stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to his men. They made merry throughout the night, demons through and through.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?”

Blinking, he glanced down at Rin from where he leaned against a pillar. She yawned and rubbed her eye with a tiny fist. “You’re covered in blood, my Lord.”

He supposed he hadn’t changed clothes. Looking at the little girl that he’d resurrected on a whim, Sesshoumaru was struck by a troubling revelation.

The Killing Perfection hadn’t enjoyed the killing.

A strange feeling permeated his being, new and foreign. Such insecurity did not belong in a being carved from confidence, but the blemish was there all the same.

He wanted the beach.

Giving a long, extinguished sigh, Sesshoumaru pinched the bridge of his nose with bloodied claws.

Sitting up from the futon, Kagome hugged the furs to her bare chest. Shivering from the chill in the air, she glanced down at Inuyasha’s sleeping face, a snore rumbling out of him.

An emptiness crawled higher within the bowels of her stomach, threatening to consume her lungs and steal her breath. Kagome pressed a hand to her mouth and hurried out of the hut. She’d given herself away. Allowed Inuyasha to indulge himself in her countless times now. And it wasn’t as though the hanyou hurt her- but every grunt and curse, every pleasured sigh of 'Kikyo’ dug deeper into her heart.

She’d told Sesshoumaru it didn’t hurt, but that had been a lie.

Squeezing stinging eyes shut, Kagome took a wobbly breath. Taking a few steadying gulps of air, she raised a tear-stained face to the crescent moon in the sky.

Setting her shoulders, something quietly shifted within the woman. She slapped her cheeks lightly and exhaled.

The next morning, while preparing breakfast, Kagome stilled when a hand reached over and lightly tugged on her wild bangs.

“Cut these,” Inuyasha said easily. “Kikyo had short, chopped bangs. I can cut em off later if ya want-”

“No.”

The hanyou blinked and froze, ears twitching. He then did a double-take, frowning. “What’d ya say?”

“I said no,” she muttered, resting clenched fists on her knees. “And there’s another thing; My name isn’t Kikyo. It’s Kagome.”

Inuyasha stared for a long while. Slowly, bushy brows drew down. His lips thinned, golden eyes hazing.

Kagome held his gaze, feeling a thrill of warning rush down her spine. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She’d always been an impostor, from her very first breath.

—-

Many moons had passed by the time Sesshoumaru lay eyes upon her.

Remaining under the shade of the trees, he watched as she gathered herbs. Kagome wore miko attire, dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Her skin looked paler, and he wondered if she’d either isolated herself indoors for a while or layered powder over her tanned skin. Even her frame looked thinner, from what he could tell.

The wild bangs that had fluffed up so endearingly in the humidity had been chopped into neater, more orderly bangs on her forehead. She did not chatter to herself or smile.

Rather, she worked diligently in silence. Inuyasha skinned a rabbit not too far away, his face content.

Sesshoumaru could’ve left things be then. He could have carried on with his life, never to be blemished or disrupted by confusing thoughts and desires for his brother’s miko again.

But then he happened to catch sight of her eyes.

Bursting from the treeline, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out. Inuyasha’s snarl was ignored as the demon lord seized the woman’s chin and lifted it.

Sombre brown eyes stared back.

His own began to shake. “You are not her,” he breathed.

Kikyo frowned, her voice tempered and steeled like matured wine rather than the bright, confident tones of the other miko. “What are you talking about, demon? Unhand me at once.”

Sesshoumaru remained frozen until a hard force collided with his side, knocking him back enough to release her. Bellowing out an enraged snarl, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out- locking tight around Inuyasha’s neck as they struggled.

“Where is the miko Kagome?” He demanded.

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “The fuck are you talking about? Whose Kagome?”

“Your wife!” Sesshoumaru snarled, flicking his fingers out towards Kikyo. “This is not the woman you had with you previously. Where is she?”

Inuyasha sank sharp claws into his striped wrist, but the Daiyoukai barely flinched. “Keh…ah I get it now,” he growled. “It wasn’t working out, so I asked the oni sorceress who first used the spell on her to reverse it. I then tried to bring back Kikyo again and it worked out,” golden eyes darkened slightly with hazy stability. “She’s back now. Kikyo’s returned to me. It just took a little time- had to remind her of all her memories, but this time it’s definitely her, not like the other one.”

The other one…

Kagome’s breathtaking smile briefly came to mind.

Sesshoumaru’s grip tightened until Inuyasha chocked and squirmed, sinking his claws deeper into the Daiyoukai’s pale flesh until they scraped bone.

“By 'reverse it’ what do you mean, whelp?” He snarled, throat so tight it strained.

“Gah!- she’s a doll again. A clay pot! Ogoranko took the clay body back!”

Sesshoumaru released him, sending the hanyou staggering to the floor. Heedless of the blood pooling to the surface, running down his tattered wrist, he turned and collected white energy around himself, bursting away from the earth within a bright, glowing orb of light. He left behind the reunited couple, Kikyo’s gaze apathetic as she watched Inuyasha struggle to catch his breath.

—

Flying as pure, unfiltered instinct, Sesshoumaru forgot himself. He was no longer a warlord bent on total conquest and domination of the lands. No longer an inuyoukai with superior breeding and impressive lineage. He was nothing more than the simple, consuming desire to see someone again.

The glowing orb blasted straight through the door to Ogoranko’s workshop. She shrieked and grabbed her scythe- but felt it be knocked aside seconds before a hand met her neck, grasping tight. Her head met the wall, grey hair flying around her as a harsh choke sounded out. She wriggled, trying to get free.

The light died down, causing her eyes to widen and narrow. “You are not one of my previous customers…what does the Lord of the West want with me?” She hissed.

“Where is the clay body you took from Inuyasha?” He uttered quietly, voice like the finest steel wrapped in velvet. A calm before the storm.

Her brows drew together in confusion. “I-if you wish to have a loved one returned to you, I can perform the spell-” his hand tightened.

“The body. Where is it?”

“Gah- ah! O-out the back!”

Sesshoumaru released her and sped outside in a blur of white. He moved around the back of the meagre house, heart dropping into the depths of his stomach.

A large, deep pit had been dug into the earth, opening wide and vast. Countless clay bodies had been dumped inside it like a mass grave. They were featureless, faceless, yet retained the arms, legs and the general shape of a human. Sesshoumaru stared down at their discarded forms.

A cough sounded out beside him, Ogoranko rubbing her throbbing neck. “They’re quite useless once they’ve been used one time. They can’t be reformed into clay or burned down. Only thing left to do is bury them. Urasue herself taught me the spell but my techniques aren’t quite as refined as my great master. I can fashion a new body for you though my Lord- ah…my Lord?” Red eyes widened with disbelief as he pushed off the edge of the pit, sailing down. “There is nothing down there,” she called after him.

Sesshoumaru ignored her.

Landing on a mound of bodies, he began filtering through the different scents left behind on the clay surfaces. Moving some puppets aside, he lifted a few out of the pile and discarded them, deaf to how they chipped or shattered. Pushing his sleeves up, Sesshoumaru worked with single-minded intent, skin becoming stained with dust as he dug both arms down through the piles, searching.

He began to pant. Panic erupted in his chest though he were in no danger. Sticky fear leaked into his body like tar. Where was she? Why couldn’t he…

The scent of salt caught his attention. Lifting his head, Sesshoumaru softly muttered to himself; “the beach.”

Ogoranko blinked, observing him. It wasn’t every day you witnessed a demon lord lose his mind, especially not one of his calibre. “Yes, the ocean is just south of here.”

Sesshoumaru looked at the bodies. Their heads were all facing forwards, staring up at the sky with blank, smooth faces of clay. His frayed attention slid over them, and he moved to another pile, catching sight of one head turned south just as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Reaching out, Sesshoumaru picked up the fragile body, lifting it into his arms. She looked exactly like the rest, no distinguishing features, save for her attention on the sea beyond.

“What happened when you reversed the spell on Inuyasha’s wife?” Sesshoumaru said faintly.

Ogoranko hummed, “I took her back here and then discarded her with the rest. Ah, did you favour her, my Lord?” Her voice dipped into suggestive tones. “I can resurrect her for a reasonable price. Say the word and I shall-”

“Now I see.” Sesshoumaru appeared next to her, gaze blank and removed. A thrill of warning rattled down the oni sorceresses spine at how perfectly calm and apathetic he appeared towards her existence. Like how one might view a candle they were about to extinguish. “You prey upon a creature’s grief and offer a solution. Something too good to be true,” chuckling in a deceptively gentle tone, he held the clay miko a little closer. “And if I gave her over to you, yes…you’d resurrect this body with a soul. But not hers. A random one. That is all you are capable of at your level.”

Organko quickly reached for the knife hidden in her obi, intent on striking it through his windpipe.

A hand impaled itself through her chest. Easily. So painfully easily he may as well have cleaved through butter. Choking, she cried out, staring into his merciless, wintery eyes, the likes of which she’d never seen in all her years of rifling through souls in the afterlife.

“Only a God can restore a soul to their rightful body,” Sesshoumaru uttered, rippling his hand free of her torso and shifting to hold the clay figure with both arms, walking away.

Ogoranko wailed and clutched fruitlessly at her wound, crumpling to her knees and bleeding out, never to rise again.

He took her to the beach.

Soft, pleasant oranges bathed the clay in a gentle glow. Sesshoumaru set the body down on the white sands, steeling himself. He then reached for Tenseiga with a bloodied hand.

Drawing the sword forth from its sheath, he inhaled the salty breeze, soothed when it combed silver hair back from his shoulders in a sweet caress. Tenseiga lay silent.

Frowning, Sesshoumaru gripped the hilt tighter. “You will do this thing for me and bring her back,” he uttered in a dark voice. “If my Father wielded you to resurrect life from a body that has recently been cut down, I will imbue you with my own will. Heed me well,” he fed youki into the blade, effectively mirroring Kagome’s imagery of running water. His burst forth like a geyser, forcing itself into the blade so quick the sword could barely contain it. “Find the soul of the one I seek.”

Tenseiga rattled, wishing to be free of him. Sesshoumaru held tight, threatening to break the sword in two.

Blue light burst forth from the blade, shining so bright it rivalled the setting sun. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and tried to focus on Kagome’s fleeting scent on the clay.

“Kagome. Come.”

A faint, flickering presence could be felt, drawing just out of reach from Tenseiga’s light. It hesitated, worn thin.

Blood ran down Sesshoumaru’s torn wrist, landing on the blade. “I desire you to join my side,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “However, it is your choice. If you must live, do not live for anyone’s will but your own this time,” the words came to him like a quiet revelation.

He then struck the blade down over the clay body.

Tenseiga made a noise of distress, blue sparks bursting forth before the light sputtered and died, swallowed up by the sun.

Sesshoumaru tried to force the blade to awaken once more, but it remained silent. Nothing about the clay shifted.

Sliding the sword back into its sheath with more force than necessary, thin lips peeled back to show gritted teeth. “Useless,” he chastised the blade. Easier to think Tenseiga was to blame than to accept that Kagome…bright, beautiful Kagome- should refuse to live again.

Giving one last look at the clay figure, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and padded away. He’d allow her to be taken by the sea she so adored, rather than dig a grave. His heart sat like a heavy stone within his chest. Every nerve ending shrieked, skin-crawling like it did not belong on his bones.

Crack.

Pointed ears twitched.

Crack.

More cracks joined the first, spilling out like spiders webs. The clay began to split, crumbling away like sand.

A woman sat up from the overcoat, coughing. Sesshoumaru stopped dead, turning back with disbelief. Golden eyes widened.

Broken clay fell from dark hair, catching in the curling, wild mane. Her tanned, bare skin caught the light of the sun. Frightened, wide blue eyes struck an unknown part of him right into his core. Sesshoumaru blurred through the air.

Strong hands caught her elbows as she tried to stand, the two kneeling together. Kagome sobbed as she bowed into him, wrapping trembling arms around his neck. Calloused palms, rough with years of swordplay, slid around her waist and dragged up her spine, bringing her into his warmth.

“I h-heard a voice, calling my name,” she said, voice tenuous and thin as she sobbed. “It was yours.”

“Hn, Ka-go-me,” Sesshoumaru’s lips peppered her soft hair, the shell of her ear, her wet cheek.

Giving a broken noise, she clung to his solid figure, blunt nails sinking hard into his back. He did not mind the sensation.

“S-say it again.”

Sesshoumaru ran his hands over her body, moving his mouth over her jaw. “Kagome.”

She shivered and bowed in on herself, hiccuping. They remained like that for some time, Sesshoumaru unused to the burning, open display of feelings yet having no choice but to weather the storm of emotion with her, both hers and his own.

Feeling a wet and sticky sensation down her back, Kagome pulled away to touch the area above his bleeding wrist. “Silly, you’re injured.”

“It is of little consequence.”

“Of course its of consequence,” she sighed, rubbing her cheek. Silence reigned between them for a moment, only broken by the gentle crash of waves on the rocks. The ebb and flow of the tide.

“…Why did you come back for me?”

Noticing the goosebumps racing over her flesh, Sesshoumaru curled mokomoko around her middle. Golden eyes flitted away towards the sunset. “This one dislikes waste.”

“Ah,” a quiet, fragile laugh escaped her. Gratitude welled up like an inflated bubble when he flicked the secures of his armour open and lifted it away from his chest, discarding it into the sand to land with a heavy thud. Pressing close with no barrier between them, Kagome tucked her knees up, sitting on his lap. Sesshoumaru’s trailing sleeves slid over her bare form, regal nose buried in her hair. “I don’t know why I even returned,” she mumbled. “I mean look at that. We’re on a beach at sunset. My one wish is fulfilled. I don’t really know what else to live for…just that I want to.”

“I find myself dissatisfied with my own wish these days. My desire for supreme conquest,” Sesshoumaru admitted, a sin, surely, for a warlord to feel no passion for the prospect of battle.

Kagome hummed, watching the waves. “Maybe it’s possible to simply move onto a new wish. Dreams and desires can change, can’t they?”

“Hn, we may yet find new ones to pursue.” Tired golden eyes slid down to her, catching the sunlight just as the great orb slipped beneath the horizon. “Together, foolish miko.”

Kagome lifted her head. She watched him for a moment, before pressing a long, firm kiss to his jaw. “I’d like that very much, Killing Perfection.”

Bowing his head to catch her soft lips with his own, Sesshoumaru cradled the back of her neck, curling long fingers within dark hair and silently adoring the way it tumbled wildly down her back.

The Demon Lord was not supposed to be a part of the man who married for love’s tale. And yet, like a bookend, the story ends with him on a beach.

Embracing the discarded woman.

End